


Remember Me

by majorhtom



Series: Resigned to Fate [3]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Crying, Discussions of death, Gen, Infant Death, Sad, Stillbirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27032431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorhtom/pseuds/majorhtom
Summary: It’s October 15th 2019 and Malcolm decided to tell Sam about the baby that he and his wife lost.A sequel of sorts to The Long, Arduous Summer of 2019. Can be read as a stand alone. One shot.
Relationships: Sam Cassidy & Malcolm Tucker
Series: Resigned to Fate [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1482485
Kudos: 5





	Remember Me

Malcolm looked down at the photo that he kept in his desk, the only copy of the photo that he had. Some days, he thought about it more than others, but he thought about it every day. It was hard not to. Some days were harder than the rest of the year to get through and this was one of those times. 

Sam walked in with a cup of tea and set it down on Malcolm’s desk. “Not working?” 

“Yeah, I... I just need a minute.” Malcolm said. 

Sam peered over Malcolm’s shoulder. “Is that that the one of you and Ellie?” 

“It doesn’t matter what it is.” Malcolm slammed the frame face down on his desk. “It’s not your concern. Thanks for the tea.” 

“You’ve been acting a bit off the past few days.” Sam noted. “Is it because it’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month?”

“Why would it be because of that?” Malcolm asked. 

“Your wife.” Sam said. “She died of it?”

“Oh yeah.” Malcolm looked down at his left hand and twisted the ring on his finger. “I didn’t think about that.” 

Sam frowned in concern. “Malcolm? Are you okay?” 

“Just fine and dandy.” Malcolm replied. 

“You’re not acting it-forgetting about your wife and looking at pictures of your niece-“

“That’s not my niece.” 

“Your nephew then.” 

Malcolm lifted the photo frame from the table. “That’s my daughter.” 

“Oh.” Sam brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh my god. Malcolm, I’m so sorry.”

Malcolm said nothing. He stayed frozen to the spot. 

“Did she have a name?” Sam asked quietly. 

“Did she-I had to register her death and her birth, _of course_ she has a name!” Malcolm said incredulously. He looked down at the photo. “She waur my wee perfect lassie.”

“What was her name?” Sam asked.

“Maisie.” Malcolm tried not to speak her name. It was just so painful, like nails on a chalkboard. It reminded him of everything that he’d lost. His brother, his parents, his daughter, his wife and their miscarried babies. 

Maybe it was all the years of holding it in. The secrecy. The alcoholism. The drug abuse. The sleeping pills. Even though he’d publicly acknowledged her earlier in the year, he hadn’t told the story to anyone except Jamie. 

Sam pulled up a chair and sat down. “So why did you choose that name?” She asked gently, noticing how Malcolm winced when he’d said the name. 

“It’s a Scottish name.” Malcolm said. “I wanted a Scottish name. But one that was easy to pronounce and spell because Elaine was English and her whole family were Tories. We couldn’t call our kids Blair or Eilidh or Fergus. If she was a boy, she would’ve been called Andrew.”

He paused and bit his lip. “Elaine went into labour. But we were told the baby had already died. She was in labour for thirty nine hours. Only for-“ he stopped abruptly. He wanted to speak, his mouth was open. He just couldn’t find it in him to speak. 

Sam put her hand on Malcolm’s. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t tell you.” Malcolm said. “I don’t tell people. It was the worst feeling in the world. It should have been the best day of my life, but it was the worst. There was a baby. But she wasn’t moving. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t breathing. She was...” He took a deep breath. “Sam, she was dead. Elaine didn’t want to see her. I thought it was fair enough. She’d-she’d carried her for nine months. I didn’t... have that connection. I held her. I cuddled her for hours.” 

Sam inched closer to Malcolm as he wiped his eye with his jacket sleeve. “Do you want a tissue or something?” 

Malcolm shook his head. “She was beautiful. She had dark hair like mine. She had Elaine’s nose. She...” He closed his eyes as tears started rolling down his cheeks. “I loved her.” His voice cracked. “I still love her.” 

Sam stood up and put her arm around her boss. It was unnerving to see the Labour Party’s chief enforcer, famed for being so angry, now unable to control his own emotions. And there was nothing she could say or do that would make it better. The absolute worst thing that could happen to a person had happened to him. And she could never understand how that felt. 

Malcolm made no attempts to brush her away. “I registered her birth. I registered her death. I alone carried her coffin. I went back to work the day after her birth, I worked on the day of her funeral. Nobody cared about me!” His mood changed to anger. But it wasn’t the anger that he was known for, rather it was a sad type of anger. “Everyone was too busy with Elaine-nobody stopped and asked me how I was! I went home to an empty house! I slept in her nursery, just so I could feel close to her! Most nights, I couldn’t even sleep-I took temazepam for that. I got addicted to sleeping pills and still nobody asked how I was!”

He pulled himself away from Sam and stood up. He wiped his eyes again with his jacket sleeves. And his nose. Trying to control his breathing, but not quite managing. 

Sam stepped back, to give him some space. 

“Ellie wasn’t born breathing either.” Malcolm said, quietly. “She had a heartbeat. The midwives, the doctor-they saved her. She’s got Cerebral Palsy now, but she’s okay. She’s... she’s alive. Keir’s alive. And I have a son. He’s alive. But so many aren’t. Some days I just-I don’t know if I can go on.” He admitted. 

“But you’re here now.” Sam said. 

“I’m here.” Malcolm nodded. 

“How-are you coping now?” Sam asked. 

Malcolm took a breath. “Yeah. I’m coping.” He said. “I’m okay now. You know I’m with an alcoholics support group. I’ve got my sister. My niece. My nephew. My job keeps me busy. But I still think when-when Maisie died... a part of me died with her. I’m talking with SANDs. The uh, the Stillborn and Neonatal Death charity. It’s just hard opening up about her.” 

“I’m sorry.” Sam said 

“It’s not your place to be sorry.” Malcolm said. “But some days I wonder where I would be if-if Maisie hadn’t died. I wouldn’t have met Jamie. I wouldn’t have joined Tony Blair’s campaign. I wouldn’t be here now. Is that good? Is that bad?” 

“It just is.” Sam said. 

“Why did she have to die?” Malcolm asked. “Sometimes life isn’t fair, Sam.” He sat back down in his chair. “Sixty tomorrow, aye?” He flashed a weak smile, though with his puffy eyelids, red nose and bloodshot eyes, it was obvious that he’d been crying. 

“Yeah.” Sam returned the smile. She didn’t push it. Malcolm would talk more about Maisie when he felt ready to. 

**Author's Note:**

> October 15th is Infant and Baby Loss Awareness Day. I can’t imagine how hard something like that would be. I personally have never experienced this, but I know people who have.  
> I tried to disconnect it from The Long Arduous Summer of 2019 and remove the Doctor Who side of this AU for a few reasons but Twelve still gets a mention as Malcolm’s son. So it can be read as a stand alone.


End file.
